Sapphire Nights (Crystal Magic Book 1)(51)

Both parents glanced in alarm at the flames licking down the hillside. Thank all the stars, the wind wasn’t blowing hard, but it would take only one gust. . . Following Sam’s advice, they fastened the kid in his seat and climbed in without going back for suitcases.

Turning around, Sam came face to face with Carmel. The older woman looked as if she’d like to spit in her face. “Out,” the older woman said in a threatening tone. “Get out of town now.”

“And hello to you, too, step-grandma,” Sam said. “I’ll invite you to tea sometime, but right now, you have a bigger problem we should address first.”

That wasn’t like the old her to talk like that. She now knew she was normally cautious and determined, hunting for niches where she might fit in. She wasn’t comfortable with this new aggressiveness, but maybe she should learn.

Carmel looked so stunned, Sam couldn’t regret the wild freedom surging through her. Turning her back on the lodge, she threw caution to the winds and jogged over to where Harvey strode up the path toward the exorcism clearing.

Behind her, the Nulls were being sensible. Walker was directing traffic. Her Uncle Kurt was helping the last few straggling guests. She could hear fire engines screaming up the road, and a plane flying over the mountain.

She refused to watch helplessly if there was any small part she could play in saving a town that had taken her in. But she didn’t have bulldozers or even a hoe. All she had was a pulsating stick and the Lucys’ foolish superstition. If she wished to be an objective, open-minded scientist, shouldn’t she at least experiment?

She unclipped the carved staff and held it in her hand, not like a dowsing rod this time, but as a walking stick. It seemed to amplify the vibrations she’d sensed when she’d climbed out of the car.

“What the hell am I supposed to be doing?” Sam asked as she caught up with Harvey.

“Find the source of the fuel?” He lifted his thick black eyebrows in question as she approached.

“We find a source of malice? That could be the entire damned world,” she said, biting back her fear that they were all crazy. But she’d found the old church grounds earlier. . .

“Is that what this energy is? Malice? Sounds about right. It’s all a learning process,” he said with a shrug, proceeding onward now that she’d caught up with him.

“Swell. We won’t learn anything if we burn to death.” The acrid stench of wood smoke filtered down on the breeze, but the fire was still a few miles away.

“Fitting end for witches, I suppose,” he said fatalistically, hiking on.

She should follow Walker’s sensible advice and get the hell out of here. But she didn’t—because she could feel what Harvey was talking about. Her scientific observational skills required tracing the source of this energy, if only to prove its existence.

“There are no such things as witches,” she protested. “We may have a sensitivity to faults in the earth or uncannily strong senses of smell for pollution, but magic isn’t real.”

“Magic explains the inexplicable,” he said, covering ground in long loping strides. “I suppose one could substitute God, but too many nebulous variables attach to that concept. I try not to offend more people than I already do.”

He was luring her with his voice, she knew. She followed easily, keeping her eye on the distant flames. “I just offended Carmel, again. I apparently offend her by existing. So I’m guessing whatever magic voodoo you think we do isn’t the only reason people find us offensive.”

“I carve wood,” he stated flatly. “I imbue no magic into it. Tell me these vibrations are the magic of my carving.”

She held the rod out and watched it quiver. “I’ve never felt wood vibrate before, but people have been using dowsing rods for centuries. Aren’t they supposed to be forked?”

“I’m hunting energy, not water or gold,” he said irritably.

“Fine then, I’ll experiment and try to keep an open mind.” Energy dowsing sounded better than hunting for malice.

He didn’t bother acknowledging her attempt to understand. Harvey had a bit of a chip on his shoulder, she suspected.

Sam tried to sense a path with the staff, but the energy it amplified was widespread. She swung around in a circle, holding out the rod, but one side wasn’t stronger than the other. She glanced up the hill. The stench of wet charred wood was heavy. The plane had dropped its chemical load between the fire and the lodge, leaving flames to lick downhill in the other direction—toward town and the bulldozers. She didn’t sense danger, yet.

She created a distance between herself and Harvey, spreading their range. The ground was relatively clear of brambles, but she kept an eye out for fleeing critters—like snakes.

“Did you find Cass?” Harvey poked through the dead leaves with his black staff.

So much had happened that she’d forgotten they hadn’t had time to share the news. “We left her down in Hillvale, bossing everyone around.”

“Long story best told over a fire with a bottle of wine?” he suggested.

“A whole barrel of whiskey might be required. Cass has to live here. I’ll leave her to tell the tale, or the part she considers suitable.”

“Yeah, she keeps secrets. You and Walker an item?” He was ahead of her as he asked that, so she couldn’t read his expression.